


The Feint

by rusty_armour



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusty_armour/pseuds/rusty_armour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some plans are more foolproof than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Addie Faction’s](https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/AddiesFaction/info) [RA Magazine](http://robertaddie.simpsite.nl/ra-magazine). It was also written in, like, three days and I’m sure it shows. However, I’m hoping that at least the Guy Groupies will get some enjoyment out of it.
> 
> This takes place some time after “The Time of the Wolf”.
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

“I don’t like this, Robin,” Tuck said. His eyes were on Gisburne, who had been stripped down to his shirt and hose and tied to a tree.

Robin didn’t even glance at their prisoner. “I told the others not to kill him if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“It’s you I’m worried about, not him.”

Robin smiled. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me, Tuck.” He finished adjusting the blue cloak and placed the nasal helmet on his head. He turned to Gisburne, spreading his arms and giving a quick whirl. “What do you think, Guy? Could I pass for you?”

Gisburne clenched his teeth and said nothing.

Robin grinned. “Any advice you’d like to share?”

Gisburne scowled. “None that will help you, Wolfshead.”

Robin shrugged. “Very well. I’ll give your regards to Cadoc of Clun.”

“Please do,” Gisburne muttered as Robin walked away. Tuck stared at Gisburne, unsure what to think. Then he hurried after Robin.

It was a daring plan – too daring in Tuck’s opinion. Joan, a servant at Nottingham Castle who sometimes acted as their spy, had learned that Gisburne would be travelling to Clun Castle. The King was still trying to raise support for his Welsh campaign, and the Marcher lords were more crucial than ever. Cadoc of Clun, Owen of Clun’s nephew and heir, had agreed to not only provide passage through his lands, but money and men as well. Gisburne was being sent to collect some of that wealth. The outlaws had laughed at King John’s choice of emissary, but Joan had explained that she’d overheard the Sheriff say that Cadoc of Clun was a soldier first and foremost and would respond more favourably to a knight than a diplomat. It was also a dangerous time to be journeying through the Marches, which was another reason why a soldier made sense, especially as that soldier would only have a few men acting as his escort. Apparently, the King had insisted that the mission be conducted in the utmost secrecy and wanted no attention to be drawn to Gisburne’s party.

Robin had asked Joan how she’d managed to learn such a highly guarded secret when he couldn’t imagine the Sheriff and Gisburne holding such a conversation in front of her. Joan had hesitated, blushed, and then confessed that she hadn’t actually overhead the Sheriff at all. The information had come from Gisburne. He’d been bragging about his mission after taking Joan to his bed. He had even, a little worse for drink, shared the password he was to supply to Cadoc of Clun to prove that he was the King’s emissary.

After the outlaws had recovered from their initial spell of disgust and disbelief, they had pounced on Joan demanding more details about the plan, coaxing her to reveal the password. Only Will and Tuck had been wary – Will because he was naturally suspicious and Tuck because there was something about the whole situation that didn’t seem right. Will’s reservations had faded when the outlaws began discussing how they might ambush Gisburne – preferably after he’d visited Cadoc of Clun and obtained the funds King John was seeking. Then Robin had come up with the idea of impersonating Gisburne.

Robin had argued that Cadoc of Clun had never met Gisburne and would never know the difference. Even if Clun had been provided with an adequate description, Robin would be able to match it. He had fair hair, blue eyes and was a similar height to Gisburne. All Robin would need to do to make the disguise complete was cut his hair and don Gisburne’s clothing, which was exactly what he’d done.

At first, Tuck had found it strange that Gisburne had chosen to wear his distinctive blue cloak, but then he’d reasoned that Gisburne hadn’t expected to encounter anyone who might recognize it. The guards accompanying Gisburne hadn’t been bearing the Sheriff’s arms on their surcoats or shields, so the party had obviously made some effort to remain incognito. Unfortunately, the change in uniform hadn’t resulted in a change of size, so John hadn’t been able to disguise himself as a soldier. That had left only Will, Nasir and Much to act as Robin’s escort. Robin hadn’t seemed concerned that John would be left behind, though John certainly hadn’t been happy. He was still frowning and rubbing his beard fretfully.

“It will be all right,” Robin said, clasping John by the shoulder. “I’ve got the password and I’ve had enough dealings with Gisburne to be able to imitate him.”

John smiled sheepishly. “I know, I know, but I’ve just got this feeling…Doesn’t it strike you that all of this has been a little…too easy?”

“What do you mean, John?”

Tuck answered instead. “Joan is not only able to furnish you with the exact details of this secret plan,” he said, “but the necessary password as well, as if…as if it had been fed to her.”

“It _was_ fed to her. Gisburne needs to learn to be more discreet and, perhaps, drink a little less before bedtime.”

Tuck sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know it isn’t,” Robin said, “but I can’t afford to be overly cautious or look such a gift horse in the mouth. It’s been a hard winter, and, with a war brewing, the Sheriff will probably tax the people more than ever. The villages need that money.” He smiled gently and clapped Tuck on the back. “It will be fine, Tuck. You’ll see.”

 

* * * * 

 

Robin sat tall and straight in the saddle, coolly eyeing the guards at the main gate. “I’m Sir Guy of Gisburne. I believe your master is expecting me.”

The one guard studied Robin for a moment then gave a curt nod. “Yes, my lord. Welcome to Clun Castle.”

Robin gave his own nod in return and waited for the portcullis to rise. They’d all employed disguises before – Loxley had even worn Gisburne’s armour once to gain entrance into Nottingham Castle – but there was always an element of risk involved. Robin winced inwardly as he and his friends passed under the portcullis that had been the tool of Owen of Clun’s demise. As they rode into the castle bailey, Robin noticed that it wasn’t deserted this time. He wondered if Cadoc of Clun embraced the blood game as fervently as his uncle had.

Cadoc of Clun received Robin in his solar. Although he shared his uncle’s dark hair and eyes, Cadoc of Clun seemed much more civilized and refined. His hair was neatly trimmed and he was clean-shaven. There was silk at his wrists rather than leather. He smiled at Robin pleasantly and poured him some wine.

“You’ve had a long journey, Sir Guy,” Clun said. “Please share a drink with me.”

Robin accepted the goblet with a quick twitch of his lips, knowing Gisburne wasn’t usually in the habit of smiling. “Thank you, my lord. It was a long journey, but I’m sure it was more than worth the effort.”

Clun inclined his head graciously and poured himself a drink. “I believe that we share a common goal, Sir Guy.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my lord, I believe my presence here proves as much.”

Clun gave an impatient wave of his hand. “No, not that, though, naturally, our responsibilities to the King are of vital importance. No, I was referring to a common enemy, that murderous cutthroat, Robin Hood.”

“Ah, yes,” Robin said. “That wolfshead has much to answer for.”

“Such as the death of my dear uncle.”

No, Robin thought, his own portcullis took care of that, but he nodded and bowed his head as if he were ashamed and appalled that there had been no retribution for Owen of Clun’s death. “I’m sorry for your loss, my lord. It grieves me deeply that Robin Hood has eluded justice for yet another heinous crime.”

“But you have made it your mission to kill this cutthroat, have you not?” Clun asked.

“That cutthroat and anyone who follows him,” Robin said.

“Good, good! I’m delighted to hear it!” Clun lifted his goblet in a silent toast and then took a long sip. “I hope you will forgive this precautionary measure on my part, Sir Guy, but I’m sure you understand the need for safeguards when conducting such important business. Could you please give me the password that was agreed upon?”

Robin smiled. “Of course. It’s Ulysses.”

Clun smiled as well, but there was a coldness to his eyes, and Robin could now see the family resemblance.

“Excellent,” Clun said. “I was hoping you would say that, Robin Hood.”

 

* * * * 

 

John swept past Tuck again as he paced restlessly around the tight confines of their new camp. “Where are they? It’ll be dark soon. They should have been back by now.”

Gisburne sniggered from where he still sat, bound to the tree. “I would think Clun has thrown them into the dungeons by now, if he didn’t kill them outright.”

John spun around in alarm and rushed over to Gisburne. “What do you mean?”

Gisburne smirked. “That password you were given. It was ‘Ulysses,’ wasn’t it?”

John eyed Gisburne warily. “Yes.”

Gisburne’s smile grew even wider. “She remembered. I wasn’t sure if she would. You chose a good spy.”

Tuck felt his blood go cold. “You knew.”

“Oh, yes,” Gisburne said. “We’ve known for weeks.”

He had the same direct, unwavering look in his eyes as he’d had on that terrible day when he’d told them all that Robin of Loxley was dead. Tuck glanced at John, realizing that his friend also recognized that expression and knew Gisburne was speaking the truth.

John groaned, barely managing to bite back a curse. “You informed her of the Sheriff’s plan knowing she would tell us.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have told her anything otherwise,” Gisburne snapped. “Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to reveal information to a woman who might be sympathetic to Robin Hood?”

He might have been that stupid when he first started working for the Sheriff, Tuck thought, but he’d learned a lot since then – and most of those lessons had been bitter ones. Tuck leaned against the tree Gisburne was tied to, feeling the sudden need for support. “Why did the Sheriff use such an elaborate ruse to catch Robin?”

“Aye, why go to so much trouble, and so far away from Nottingham as well?” John asked.

“But it wasn’t a ruse,” Gisburne said. “Cadoc of Clun is planning to support King John, but there’s a condition.”

Tuck sighed and closed his eyes. “He wants Robin Hood.”

“Yes.” Gisburne shifted slightly, as if trying to relieve a cramped muscle. “We knew that wolfshead wouldn’t be able to resist Clun’s money, not when his spy was handing him the key to obtain it.”

John glared at Gisburne. “The Sheriff knew there would be an ambush and that Robin would disguise himself as you.”

“It seemed likely, yes.”

“Is that why you wore your blue cloak?” Tuck asked. “So we’d be sure to recognize you?”

Gisburne’s lips twitched. “I knew you’d be disappointed if you missed me.”

John growled and punched the tree. “We should kill him right now!”

Tuck laid a hand on John’s arm. “We promised Robin we wouldn’t, remember?”

John took a step back from the tree, though his fists were still clenched in fury. “I say we take Gisburne to Clun and bargain with him.”

“You’d get nothing,” Gisburne said. “If it’s a choice between me and Robin Hood, he’ll choose Robin Hood. My life is worth nothing to him.”

“Even though you’re the King’s emissary?” Tuck asked.

Gisburne snorted. “The King would slit my throat himself if he thought there was a way to profit by it.” He gazed up at the darkening sky and shook his head in mock chagrin. “If you’re planning to rescue your heroic leader, you’d better hurry. You’re running out of time.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took a year, but I _finally_ wrote a conclusion for this story, which was originally published in [Addie Faction’s](https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/AddiesFaction/info) [RA Magazine](http://robertaddie.simpsite.nl/ra-magazine). Call it laziness if you will, but I wrote the first installment quickly and always planned for it to end on a cliffhanger. Not surprisingly, most readers weren’t happy about that, and at least a few people asked me to continue the story. I stubbornly refused, determined to stick with the cliffhanger ending. Of course, the main reason I refused was because I had no idea how to conclude the story. Then, one day, not that long ago, a possible solution to the cliffhanger dilemma came to me and I decided to run with it. I doubt it’s the best solution. I’m not even sure if it’s a _good_ solution. However, it’s all I’ve got and it’s not like anyone else ever offered any suggestions. *g* Anywaaaaaaaay, I hope this long-awaited conclusion will suffice and not be too disappointing…

* * *

 

John was glaring at Gisburne with a venomous look that Tuck had rarely seen on the gentle man’s face. There was an almost murderous gleam in his eye, and Tuck knew that if John took it into his head to kill Gisburne, there was little he could do to stop him. Tuck lumbered to his feet with a grunt and bent over to tap John’s shoulder. “Come on, get up. I think we need to stretch our legs.”

John stared at Tuck, too surprised to argue as his friend tugged him away from the fire. “Why?” he asked once they were out of earshot.

“We have to talk,” Tuck said. He glanced back at Gisburne, who was watching them curiously but didn’t say anything.

When they were outside the camp, Tuck nodded at the moss-covered log, hoping John would sit down, but John remained standing. Tuck sighed and crossed his arms, leaning against a tree. “We can’t kill him, John.”

“Why not?” John exclaimed. “You heard him. He’s no use as a hostage and he certainly won’t help us get into the castle!”

“It would be wrong.”

“Who cares? He deserves to die! And the way he described things, we’d be doing him a favour!”

Tuck shook his head. “That’s not true, John, and you know it. You’re beginning to sound like Will.”

“Well, maybe Will’s been right all along. We should have killed him years ago. We should have killed him right from the start.”

Tuck sighed again and closed his eyes. “Whether we’ve done right or wrong sparing Gisburne all this time doesn’t matter because Robin asked us not to kill him and he’s still leader.”

“He might be dead now for all we know,” John said.

“But what if he isn’t? John, we have to find a way to get into the castle.”

“It’s impossible!” John cried, kicking the log angrily. “Maybe if Gisburne was worth something to Clun, we could exchange him for the others, but you heard what Gisburne said.”

“Then we’ll have to find another way. Maybe if we disguised ourselves as…” Tuck broke off as his eyes fell on some purple flowers just beyond the log.

“As…?” John asked. Then he realized that Tuck was no longer looking at him. “What is it?”

“When I was at Thornton Abbey, there was a novice who was helping Brother Alard replenish the stock in the infirmary. He picked foxglove instead of comfrey and might have killed someone if Brother Alard hadn’t noticed.”

John was also studying the purple flowers. “Foxglove is poisonous?”

“Oh, yes. It’s quite deadly.”

John chuckled. “Too bad we can’t give it to Gisburne.”

“But that’s what I intended to do,” Tuck said.

John’s head whipped around. “But you said – ”

“It won’t be enough to kill him. We’ll ground down the leaves and just give him a tiny amount. That should only make him ill.”

John frowned in confusion. “What good is that going to do?”

Tuck smiled. “Well, it won’t do Gisburne any good, but it might help us.”

 

* * * * 

 

Gisburne was eyeing the cup suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Just water,” Tuck said. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

“Why should you care?”

Tuck met Gisburne’s gaze steadily. “Because Robin told us to keep you alive.”

Gisburne scowled. “That wolfshead could be dead by now.”

“Possibly,” Tuck said, “but until we know for sure, we have to keep you alive.”

Gisburne’s eyes fell on the cup again. “You drink some first.”

“Very well.” Tuck took a long sip and then held the cup out to Gisburne.

Gisburne glared at Tuck. “Well, I can’t drink it with my hands tied, can I?”

“I’ll hold it for you.” Tuck knelt down in front of Gisburne and pressed the cup to his mouth. “There you go. Drink it all down.”

Tuck set the cup down on a rock by the fire when Gisburne had finished drinking. “Let me know when you’d like more and I’ll bring it to you.” Tuck was about to sit down, but John grabbed him roughly by the arm and hauled him away from the fire.

“Are you mad?” John whispered. “You drank it!”

Tuck pried John’s fingers off his arm. “ _Before_ I added the foxglove. I thought Gisburne might not trust us and ask me to taste the water first. I managed to slip in the foxglove as I was bringing the cup to his lips.”

John’s own lips twitched in suppressed laughter. “Are you sure you’re really a monk? You seem much too devious to be a man of the cloth.”

“Really? Some of the most devious people I’ve known have been men of the cloth. Look at Abbot Hugo.”

“Aye, I suppose you’re right.” John glanced at Gisburne. “So how long do you reckon it’s going to take?”

Tuck shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never poisoned anyone before.”

“Well, he’d better hurry up and get sick because we’re running out of time.”

 

* * * * 

 

Tuck first suspected that the poison was taking effect when Gisburne closed his eyes and leaned his head against the tree. Under other circumstances, Tuck might have assumed that Gisburne was trying to sleep, but Tuck was watching Gisburne closely and could see that his eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was contorted into a grimace. Then Gisburne opened his eyes and blinked a few times, as if attempting to clear his vision.

Tuck nudged John, who had begun nodding off. “I think it’s starting.” He placed his hand on John’s shoulder and hoisted himself off the ground. When he arrived at the tree, Gisburne stared up at him in confusion, as if he couldn’t understand why not only Tuck was there but why he’d been tied to a tree in the first place.

“What did you do?” Gisburne asked.

“Do?”

“There’s something…You did something to me…”

Tuck crouched down in front of Gisburne. “What’s the matter? Are you ill?”

“I…I don’t know. Everything’s…blurry. My head…” Gisburne winced as if in pain and shut his eyes again.

“I think it’s time,” Tuck said. “John, get over here. We need to cut him free.”

“How do we know he’s not pretending?” John asked when he reached the tree.

“Because I don’t think he’s that good an actor. Besides, look at him. He’s pale and that’s sweat on his brow.”

“All right, all right,” John grumbled. He pulled out his knife and started working on the ropes. Gisburne’s head was lolling against the tree trunk, and Tuck wasn’t sure if he even noticed John.

“I think we’ll need to help him to his feet,” Tuck said once the ropes had been cut away. He grabbed Gisburne by the arm and managed to pull him up. It was only John’s quick reflexes that kept them both standing when Gisburne nearly toppled. Tuck bit his lip as he looked at Gisburne. “We’ll definitely have to help him. I don’t think he’ll manage on his own.”

John sighed, shifting his hold on the knight. “I wish Robin hadn’t taken Gisburne’s horse. We really could have used it.”

 

* * * * 

 

Gisburne might have actually made it all the way to Clun Castle on his own two feet, but he grew so sluggish that John was forced to carry him over his shoulders.

“It won’t be much longer now,” Tuck said.

John glared at him. “This had better be worth it. If he dies before we get there, I’ll kill you.”

Tuck smiled, though there was a nervous look in his eyes. “He won’t die. He’s young and strong and…and I only gave him a tiny bit of foxglove.”

“Try telling that to Gisburne,” John growled. “He feels like he’s dying to me.”

Tuck stared up at John, his forehead furrowed. “How do you reckon that?”

“Because he’s a dead weight,” John said.

Tuck wisely remained silent for the rest of the journey, only speaking again when they reached the main castle gate and encountered three guards. “Greetings. I’m Brother Thomas. I found this poor sick man not far from the castle and I hoped you might take pity on him. He seems to have been robbed as he’s been stripped of most of his clothing and doesn’t have any possessions.”

Two of the guards seemed genuinely surprised and perplexed, but the third guard studied Tuck suspiciously.

“You’re not from here,” the guard said.

“No, I’m not. I’m a friar, you see. I’m never in one place for long. I was on my way to St. Leonard’s when I came across our unfortunate friend.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed and he jerked his chin at John. “And who’s this? He doesn’t look like any monk I’ve ever seen.”

“He’s a kindly shepherd who came to my aid when I found this knight.”

“Hold on,” one of the other guards said. “How do you know he’s a knight?”

Tuck frowned. “Well, before he passed out, he told me his name was Sir Guy of Gisburne.”

“But that can’t be right! He’s here already!”

The third guard tapped his comrade on the shoulder and shook his head. “That wasn’t him, remember? It was…” He shot a quick glance at Tuck and John. “Well, it doesn’t matter who he was. We just know it wasn’t Gisburne.”

“Well, how do we know that this is Gisburne? He could be an imposter too for all we know.”

The third guard jerked his chin at John again. “Set him down on the ground.”

With the assistance of the guards, John lowered Gisburne from his shoulders and placed him at their feet. Gisburne then rolled over and threw up before curling up on his side, looking miserable.

“Well, you were right about him being sick,” the third guard said, “and he does seem to fit the description we were given. Dal, go fetch the steward and find out what we should do.”

While they waited for Dal, Tuck knelt down beside Gisburne in a mock show of solicitude, tutting and fretting and patting Gisburne’s back ineffectually. For an instant, John crouched down as if he were also concerned for their charge, silently slipping his knife to Tuck, who quickly hid it in his sleeve, knowing he might attract the guards’ attention if he tried to pass it back. He would have preferred it if John had kept the knife, but he knew John had been unhappy at the prospect of him entering Clun Castle unarmed, even though it aided his disguise as a friar.

When Dal returned, he was accompanied by the steward, a man with a long, saturnine face and thinning red hair.

“My Lord of Clun wishes to extend shelter and hospitality to the sick man and asks that we bring him into the castle,” the steward said. Then he turned to Tuck. “My Lord of Clun is most eager to speak with you and express his gratitude for the kindness you have shown Sir Guy.”

Managing to ignore the nervous flutter in his stomach, not to mention a faint twinge of guilt, Tuck nodded. “I would be most honoured to meet him.”

“Very good. I will take you to him at once.”

As Tuck walked beside the steward, he tossed an anxious look back at John, who had helped Dal lift Gisburne off the ground and was following them through the gate. Tuck fervently hoped that John would be able to sneak away from Dal and make it down to the dungeons to rescue the others – if they were still alive.

 

* * * * 

 

Tuck had been standing in the solar for several minutes when Cadoc of Clun arrived. Tuck wasn’t sure if he should be worried or relieved when Clun smiled at him warmly and invited him to sit down.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Brother Thomas,” Clun said, “but I felt it was only right to attend to Sir Guy first. Soldiers make such clumsy nurses, and I needed to see for myself that he was receiving proper care.”

Tuck inclined his head in agreement. “Of course, my lord. I am glad your servants are attending to Sir Guy. He seems most grievously ill. I pray to God that he will be spared from this terrible affliction and make a swift recovery.”

Clun poured some wine into Tuck’s goblet. “This illness is most mysterious, Brother. It is unlike anything I have ever seen. God willing, the physician will cure him.”

“Amen,” Tuck said.

Clun smiled and sipped some of his wine. “It is very fortunate that you came across Sir Guy when you did.”

“It is, indeed, my lord. If I had travelled down that stretch of road any earlier, I might have missed him. He had only just managed to crawl out from some bushes before collapsing in the dirt. I could see that he had been robbed and beaten.” Tuck sighed. “The world can be such a wicked place.”

“Yes, it certainly can be,” Clun said. “In this very castle, there is a ruthless band of cutthroats who I suspect were the perpetrators of this crime.”

Tuck glanced wildly around the room, his eyes wide with fright.

Clun laughed. “Fear not, Brother. These men are safely locked away in the dungeons.”

Thank Heaven for that, Tuck thought, happy that his friends were still alive. “I’m glad to hear it, my lord. Who are these men you speak of? They sound like a dangerous lot.”

Clun poured himself some more wine. “It is Robin Hood and his men.”

“Robin Hood!” Tuck cried. “But I thought he only plagued the wretched souls in Nottingham. What could have possibly brought him this close to Wales?”

“Money, Brother. Money from my coffers.”

Tuck shook his head. “I’d heard this Robin Hood was bold, but I never imagined that he would dare…Oh, it is a wicked world!” Tuck crossed himself and gazed earnestly at Clun from across the table. “My lord, I am so pleased you were not hurt and truly thankful that you have rid us of such dangerous outlaws. I shall feel much safer now.”

“I hate to contradict you, Brother,” Clun said, “but I’m afraid that I haven’t been entirely successful. There is at least one member of Robin Hood’s band who has managed to elude me. Until a short time ago, it was two men, but the giant known as Little John has now been captured, which just leaves a corpulent monk who apparently enjoys the taste of good wine.” Clun chuckled quietly to himself. “Should I call for my men or will you allow me to escort you to the dungeons myself?”

Tuck smiled sheepishly then sprang to his feet, reaching out with his left hand to pull Clun forward on the table. With his right hand, he pressed John’s knife against the side of Clun’s neck. “I hate to impose even further on your hospitality, my lord, but I’m afraid I’m going to need your help.”

 

* * * * 

 

Cadoc of Clun proved even more useful than Tuck had imagined. By holding Clun hostage, Tuck was not only able to free his friends but collect the money Clun had intended to give to the king. Unlike his uncle, Cadoc of Clun made it past the portcullis in one piece, even though he screamed and ranted at his men to kill the outlaws. In the end, Nasir was forced to knock him out. The outlaws left Clun lying by the river, returning to their camp for a brief rest before starting their journey back to Sherwood. They hoped to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the castle in case Clun decided to retaliate.

“I don’t know how you did it, but thank you,” Robin said as they gathered around the fire Much was building.

“How _did_ you do it?” Much asked, looking up from his task.

Will snorted. “Well, they snuck in, obviously.”

John smiled, glancing at Tuck. “We didn’t have to sneak in. We had Gisburne.”

Robin shot a startled look at the tree, noticing for the first time that their prisoner was missing. “You used him as a hostage?”

Tuck bit his lip, not quite meeting Robin’s eyes. “Umm…not exactly.”

“Tuck poisoned him,” John said.

Will’s face lit up. “You poisoned Gisburne? E’s actually _dead_?” He jumped to his feet and flew at Tuck, throwing his arms around him.

Robin was staring at Tuck in shock. “You killed him, even though I told you not to, even though you knew – ”

“I _didn’t_ kill him!” Tuck cried, managing to squirm out of Will’s embrace. “I only gave him enough foxglove to make him ill. I thought the guards might allow a friar and shepherd to enter the castle if they were escorting a sick knight who just happened to be Sir Guy of Gisburne, the man Cadoc of Clun had been expecting.”

“Hold on!” Will said. “You mean, Gisburne _isn’t_ dead? Tuck!”

“Well, he wouldn’t have done us much good if he had died, would he?”

Will wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Are you sure he didn’t die? Maybe the poison worked.”

John shook his head morosely. “He was getting better when I last saw him. He was able to say the bloody password _and_ betray me to Clun. The bastard’s going to live.”

Robin was still gaping at Tuck. “ _Poisoned_?”

Tuck threw up his hands. “Well, Gisburne wouldn’t help us willingly and he seemed the best way into the castle. In case you’ve forgotten, you thought the same thing when you decided to impersonate him.”

Robin grimaced for an instant, but then he smiled, clapping a hand on Tuck’s shoulder. “All right, Tuck. You win. Next time, you can come up with the plan.”


End file.
